


Arno Dorian x Reader: A Whole New Beginning

by Oreana



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, Paris - Freeform, Prostitute, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, ac unity, brothel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 03:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8695492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oreana/pseuds/Oreana
Summary: Sequel to 'An American Prostitute in Paris' where the reader lives underground with Arno Dorian and attempts to adjust to their new life in Paris and with his love





	

**Author's Note:**

> {IMPORTANT: I am afraid that no more Jacob Frye/Assassin's Creed works will come from me having been harassed out of the fandom for nearly half a year. I've lost my drive and passion for it entirely, but I appreciate the support and love that has come from some of my readers. <3 Thank you all for the fun times, but because of the death threats and other absurd comments thrown my way via Tumblr, I'd rather forget about this fandom entirely. Do not expect anymore updates of these stories.}
> 
> This was the only prostitute story, so far, that has a sequel. Figured I might as well upload it here and now.
> 
> Thank you, @dawnee75 (tumblr) for your brilliant help in aiding me in your lovely language to make this more authentic. I appreciate it greatly.

The cold, unwelcomed chill of the streets of Paris embraced you yet again. Your heart shattered and your body heavy with worry and fear of abuse, you found yourself running hastily from…something…you weren’t completely sure what, but you knew something or someone was after you. Hands gripping your torn gown, you kept it out of the way of your feet to the best of your ability only to find one of your wrists grabbed to paralyze you in the thought of running much further. 

“Stop!” you screamed, tears blinding your vision only to find the other hand of the person who had you grabbed your other wrist and moved to pin you against a nearby wall. 

Air knocked from your lungs, your hair was becoming a mess from the air heavy with moisture and permeated with fog. Body quivering, you felt sickened at the thought of looking at the person responsible for holding you captive until you felt that all too familiar degrading voice sink your heart. 

“Ah, ma petite putain (my little whore),” began the female voice, causing your eyes to look at the silhouette before you to watch as the brothel owner’s unforgiving and callous features illuminated under the influence of the nearby streetlamp. 

“M-Madam Leonda...!” you gasped, feeling her nails pinch your cheeks as she cradled your face harshly in her care. Tears were unable to stop now as they cascaded freely down your face, giving the heartless woman the satisfaction that she had you again. 

“Don’t you understand, you stupid girl? I **_OWN_** you…!” sneered Madam Leonda, her grip tightening to the point you swore you felt her sharp nails cut your skin and prompt your cheeks to bleed. 

Body heaving from overwhelming sadness at the thought as well as the urge to be ill, you were at Madam Leonda’s mercy only to have her treat you as you expected she would, and that was to slap you and make you fall to your knees with a hand to the abused skin. You only had a moment to consider recovering when the brothel mistress fell to her knees quickly after you to grab your wrist and force you to listen to her. “(Y/N), I wasn’t playing games when I told you I would make you pay for disobeying me and screwing this up!” 

Her threat roused indescribable fear in your breast, and you shook your head eagerly with your face faltering under sorrow. Mouthing ‘no’ again and again, you screamed ‘please, don’t’ only to have Madam Leonda push you backward, and it was then the scene when dark…hands coming out of nowhere to grab at you to rid you of your clothing; a large male you couldn’t make out pinned you down and left you defenseless under his presence. 

The streets of Paris had transformed into the brothel as soon as you found your gaze going from the man shrouded in darkness to the woman beyond him. You trembled in fear seeing the evil brothel mistress standing not far away as if to take pleasure in in such a pleasant show filled with your screams and the sight of you being helpless. Madam Leonda was enjoying in a glass of wine, her stance venomous in itself as she curved her lips into a wicked, satisfied smile at the fear that consumed you. Evil or not…this woman was your salvation, and you had to plead to her. 

“M-Madam Leonda… ** _PLEASE_** …s-stop him! S-Save me…!” 

“Stop whining, ma petite putain, and accept your **_punishment!_** ” she hissed in displeasure, her grip on the wine glass tightening to the point you thought for sure she’d break it. “Not like you haven’t been raped before,” she excused, as if to wash her hands free of the incident. 

Tears streaming from your eyes, you felt pain rocket through your body as the man forced himself upon you; memories of those horrific moments of where men had their way with you whether you wanted it or not shot through your mind and caused your heart to swell in agony. “ ** _I won’t do it again!_** ” you screamed, wanting the pain to stop. 

_“(Y/N)?”_

Eyes dampened by tears flew open whilst a sharp inhale was provoked from your throat, you threw the covers off of your sweaty body as you shot upright in the bed—not even realizing it was a dream as you screamed in the dim lighting of the room. “ ** _I WON’T DO IT AGAIN!_** ” 

“(Y/N)!” Arno caught you during the hysterics of your nightmare. His arms instantly grabbing your shoulders and trying to calm you, the Assassin brought you into his embrace with his arms securing you tightly from your worst fear. “It’s okay, my princess; ça va aller, ma princesse,” he soothed, the warmth of his breath and embrace prompting you to cry all the more in relief. “It was just a dream.” 

“It was…it was a nightmare…” you corrected through your heaping sobs, hands gripping Arno’s attire tightly in desperation. 

Arno’s embrace tightened in understanding, his hand moving to the back of your head to cradle you there as he shushed you tenderly in the candlelight. 

Moments later, he had departed to get some tea for you to drink to settle your nerves and calm your thoughts. The gesture was welcomed as was Arno’s presence again. He was gone most of the day on a mission of some sort, and he had the smell of blood on him again…it was odd to admit, but that coppery smell was starting to become welcome as it lingered about him now and again and reminded you of the Assassin. 

“It was a nightmare about the brothel again, wasn’t it?” Arno asked, hating to be indelicate in the situation, but he apparently was eager to know what was making you so restless as of late since peaceful sleep wasn’t exactly welcoming you into its embrace. 

The memory of the nightmare made you grip the teacup harshly, eyes closed to avoid Arno’s gentle and curious gaze, you turned your head with a nasally sigh. You heard him sigh in return, his decorative gear chiming as he situated himself in the chair he was upon not far from you. 

“I am not going to let that woman hurt you again, (Y/N),” reminded Arno, his voice a bit clearer than last as he had apparently leaned forwards to try and obtain your attention. When you refused to look upon him still, he took his index finger and gently caressed under your chin to encourage you to. “You won’t end up back there—I swear it so!” 

Still, you remained in Paris, and Madam Leonda was merely on the surface… somewhere… for all you knew, she could find you and force you into the brothel once more and beat you for months to come. Would Arno even be able to save you against such a horrible woman? He did say he was an Assassin months ago, but he stayed his blade from the innocent, and even if Madam Leonda was a witch of a woman, she didn’t exactly murder anybody…at least, you didn’t think so. 

He spared you a few words in French that you were still learning, so when you looked upon him oddly so, he corrected himself. “Forgive me, I said: ‘hush now, (Y/N); I will protect you’.” 

“I am still learning the language,” you admitted with a bashful look. “It is so hard to grasp some words and understandings.” 

Arno moved from you for a moment but only to loosen the belts across his chest and remove his weaponry. For some reason, the very sound of buckles jingling made you almost entice a panic attack. You hadn’t even realized that you were holding your breath until Arno asked if you were alright in French. 

“S-Sorry,” you apologized, hand to your chest as you shook the fear from your mind. What was causing you to be so anxious at that sound? The idea of why escaped you at the moment. “But, it makes little sense all the same as to why you would know English in France.” 

“Not necessarily,” Arno said with a small chuckle upon his words, putting his weapons off to the side on his nearby desk. “My father conversed with the Americans and British from time to time. If you’re part of the Assassins, it is always wise to know different languages in case you need to meet with brothers of the Creed from different parts of the world.” With everything situated upon his desk, he sat back down beside you with a smile upon his lips. “So, naturally, I learned English at a young age from my father and, later, Monsieur François de la Serre.” 

There appeared to be a bit of pain upon that last statement…or were you imagining it? You dared not press the matter if it was indeed pain. You didn’t wish to inflict painful memories upon the man. A smile appeared upon your lips in return, but shortly vanished afterward. “I guess that makes sense as you speak it like you’ve lived overseas all your life.” 

Arno moved his hand to the side on his thigh as if to shrug at the thought. “I have learned your language, ma belle dame (my beautiful lady), now it is your turn to learn mine.” His gentle touch back upon your cheek, you felt his gloved fingertips caress your skin to invoke a blush. “Oh, mon amour; mon doux, mon tendre, mon merveilleux amour (Oh my love; My sweet, my tender, my wonderful love).” Arno paused for a moment, as he moved closer to spare a gentle yet lingering kiss upon your lips. His eyes gazing upon yours yet again, he gave a crooked smile. “Voudrais-tu m'accorder la chance de pouvoir t'aimer et te chérir?” 

When you showed your confusion in the last statement, Arno chuckled once more and corrected himself. 

“Would you allow me the chance to love and cherish you?” the Assassin asked, possibly in hopes to take your mind off of the horrible nightmare, which had found you in the evening hours. 

You twisted your mouth to the side, trying to think of the proper response in French to say in return. “How do I say: ‘Yes, I would love to have that honor’?” Honestly, the words weren’t coming together properly to make a coherent sentence. 

Arno seemed to find delight in your desire to learn, as he smiled still and granted you a translation. “Oui, j'aimerais avoir cet honneur.” He made sure to speak the words slowly knowing that you still needed to pronounce them. 

Speaking them back slowly to him, it took three or so tries, but you finally were able to say it to the point your teacher nodded approvingly. Trying to think of what to say in return, you attempted to speak in French once more. “Umm… Je veux sentir votre corps près du mien (I want to feel your body next to mine).” 

Shaking his head, Arno corrected with a raise of his finger. “Ton corps,” he reminded you.

“Pardon?” you asked, not sure what he meant to correct. 

“Votre is a respectful form—votre is ‘your’ but ‘you’ very polite. We use it as a form of respect,” explained the French Assassin. “So, you would say: ‘Je veux sentir ton corps près du mien’,” Arno went onward to explain as his index and thumb finger made an O as he stressed the point. 

You felt at ease. Learning French from him was one of the most peaceful and relaxing parts of the day back when you used to work at the brothel. You felt safe and…even at the time…loved by this stranger. He showed compassion when rarely anybody else would or even could. Nodding to his correction, you finally repeated it back the proper way. 

“Perfect,” he praised, moving to place a kiss of reassurance upon your forehead. Arno motioned to the bed once more. “It’s late, mon amour; it is wise you try to get some rest, for I plan on spending the day with you tomorrow.” 

The idea of sleep hardly felt appealing given the nightmare that startled you awake before. Your teeth upon your lower lip, you coyly looked away only to have Arno place his index and middle finger against your cheek to try and encourage your gaze to him once more. “I-I am not sure if I can so easily relax after such a dream, Arno,” you admitted, putting the emptied teacup on the nightstand not far from the bed. 

Arno smiled weakly at the mention of that nightmare again, perhaps in feeling powerless to make them stray from you. “I will be beside you, (Y/N).” His hands upon your shoulders, he urged you to lie down. 

With the man hovering over you in such a way, you tried not to show your discomfort in the situation. Perhaps he felt it, as he was quick to move his hands from your shoulders and try to get you comfortable once more. Why it was so hard to be around Arno (the very salvation you had from hell) was beyond you. 

“Let me change, and I will be back shortly,” the Assassin assured you with another kiss spared to your lips. 

With Arno soon departing from the room, you tried to find it within yourself to lie down and sleep again. It was hard…even if you were now underneath the streets of Paris in this Assassin’s Brotherhood headquarters, you still worried that your worst nightmares would be realized, and Madam Leonda would find you and take you back. However, the sound of the flickering flame was enough to entice you into a relaxed state before able to drift off to sleep for a moment. It was possibly only for a moment, as you heard Arno come into the room again (even if you kept your eyes closed). 

You feigned sleep as you heard him move closer to you still. His hand gently upon your head, he began to caress your hair to the point you nearly did fall asleep under the influence of his caring touch. “At least she’s asleep,” you heard him murmur quietly to himself. 

Arno pulled away then, and while he was rustling about, you did feel the bed you were on move under his bodyweight as he got in beside you under the covers. The Assassin had been kind on giving you what you needed. While most women would be keen on the thought of being embraced by the one they adored while sleeping, you were still nervous at the thought, and so, Arno made sure to merely sleep beside you only—hands to himself. 

Still, you found it difficult to sleep as intended that night. Even if Arno’s presence could sooth the ill begotten thoughts in your mind, you were still a wreck at the thought of another nightmare taking hold of you. As you tried to find a means to sleep, it appeared to catch the attention of the Assassin. 

“(Y/N),” Arno began, his voice heavy with exhaustion it seemed. Apparently, you woke him. 

Flinching at the tone, you worried you might have upset him in some way. Slowly, you turned to look over your shoulder. “Y-Yes…?” 

You saw the Assassin move his hand as if to rub sleep from his eyes before turning to look at you in the nearly lightless room. “Are you having trouble sleeping still?” When you stalled in your response, he continued while inching closer to you. “You are squirming around as though you are uncomfortable, mon petit ange (my little angel).” 

You weren’t sure what to say. Honestly, you only fell asleep for a few minutes on and off. Could you say you were even truly asleep to begin with? “I…I haven’t really been resting all that well to begin with tonight.” 

It was hard to see in the room. It was so dark without the aid of a candle’s flame, but you could vaguely make out Arno’s outline as he moved himself onto his side to face you. Seems without the use of any light, he could see just fine for some reason, because, before you knew it, his hand found yours without hesitation. His touch was welcomed. Arno always held your hand in a gentle fashion and imperceptibly enough to the point you could pull away if you so desired. 

“Nightmares again, or are you just being stubborn?” he asked, being playful at the last comment. 

An honest, yet dismal laugh escaped your lips at his words. “I am so tired, Arno…and I wish I could sleep, but…” 

Arno moved on the bed—he was inching closer, it seemed, as you could feel his body heat. “Is there something I can do to help you, (Y/N)?” 

Honestly, you wished you had an idea of what could make sleeping easier. You weren’t lying when you said you were tired. More than anything, you thought rest would be welcomed to you as even sleeping at the brothel was oddly easier than sleeping underground with the man you loved…why was that? “I wish I had an answer that even I could be satisfied with, but…I don’t…” Your voice started to crack under the pressure of exhaustion and the hate of being deprived of sleep. 

“Come here, (Y/N),” Arno whispered, trying to urge you towards his embrace. 

Your body tensed, but you were admittedly too tired to acknowledge the feeling. You just wanted to rest, and if Arno’s embrace could have that power, you’d allow it. Moving closer to him under his guidance, you buried your face against his bare chest—hoping he wouldn’t mind the tears you were shedding that almost felt random in origin. 

One hand upon the back of your head, the other found rest upon the middle of your back as he attempted to sooth you. “Just try to relax, (Y/N),” he whispered, Arno’s lips buried within your hair to try and calm you further. “I am here and will do my best to ease your weariness.” 

Falling into his touch, you found yourself eventually closing your eyes to just enjoy in the feel of his breathing as his chest moved upon such an action. When he began whispering a few calming words in French, you found your eyes grow heavier by the second and soon, sleep took you.

 

\--

 

It was hard to tell what the time of day it was being underground. Without the aid of a clock of any sort, you would be lost on time all together, so imagine the surprise that rocketed through you when you opened your eyes to the room and found it was past noon. “Ah!” you exclaimed, shooting upright in bed. “It is so late…!” 

Arno was not far away at the desk he had in his room, raising his head from the paper before him upon noticing you panicking at the mere thought you had slept in as late at you did. A smile crept upon his lips and he expelled a gentle laugh. “Well, you were sleeping peacefully. I wasn’t going to wake you,” he admitted, going back to scribbling down whatever it was he was writing to. 

Still, you felt bad. He had promised to spend the day with you finally, and you spent it all napping away. “W-Well, you know you can wake me, right?” you reminded him, bringing the covers close to your chest as though you were caught naked when you were just feeling shameful over how late it was. 

“I know, ma dame (my lady),” began Arno, finishing what he was writing and folding the piece of paper delicately into an envelope, “but sleep is precious, and what fun would you have with me if you were falling asleep out on the streets of Paris?” 

“Streets of Paris?” you parroted in confusion, not sure what he was talking about as you took most solace underground her busy roads. 

Arno granted a crooked smile as he put the letter to rest and took to his feet then and there to come over towards where you were upon the bed still. “Oui (yes),” said the Frenchman, cradling your hands into his own to bring them to his lips to kiss upon them so. “I will be taking you above ground to get you adjusted to walking about Paris like one of her people and not like some servant of men.” 

“Is that wise?” you asked, panic rising up in your chest and causing your heart to beat wildly. “B-But what if Madam Leonda—!” 

“She will not find you,” Arno interrupted quickly to discourage such an unpleasant thought. “Besides, I will be there, (Y/N). Do you honestly think I would allow that woman to take you from me?” 

His hands cradling you underneath your jaw line to get you to look upon him, you still had a difficult time in shaking the worry from you. “Are you positive this will be fine…?” The nightmares felt so real and a part of you worried of them being a prediction of things to come given how frequent they were. 

“Have I not been faithful to my promises so far?” Arno asked with a gentle look to his eyes as he removed his fingertips from your face slowly. “Trust in me, (Y/N); I promised to protect and love you, and that is what I am doing and _have_ been doing, no?” 

Honestly, you couldn’t argue that fact. Arno promised he would save you from the cold, unfeeling embrace of the brothel mistress, and he did very much do so—even if by all accounts what he had done was considered stealing as you were ‘property’ and owned by Madam Leonda. Even if the nod was hesitant, it was there and it granted the Assassin a bit of reprieve in the knowledge he was doing and showing everything he had promised he would do. 

“Excellent,” said Arno with a smile. “Now, perhaps you should get dressed. We have an evening to enjoy before the day is through.” 

You didn’t dillydally on the thought and quickly took to getting dressed in a gown that Arno had bought for you that didn’t remind you of the past, which haunted you so. Making it above ground with Arno aiding you in the process, you clung to the nook of his arm as if it were your only means of living. 

Never had you walked the streets of Paris without the aid of prostitution…it had been so long since you ever could even consider yourself an equal to anybody that you hadn’t realized your body language was suggesting you were unworthy to even be in sunlight. 

“Eyes up,” Arno insisted, taking his fingers to try and guide your eyes upward and not down at the ground below. “You don’t look at the streets of Paris like you are unworthy of being here—you walk upon these roads with pride and self-worth.” 

A blush across your cheeks at just looking into his eyes for a moment, you stuttered over yourself. “I-It…it has been so long since I felt like a person, Arno.” 

“But you are away from that place now,” he reminded you, stopping in his stride to stress that fact by motioning about the people who walked about you both. “Look at the people again without the imprint of the brothel upon you…do you see a difference?”

Your eyes looked out at the citizens of Paris and noticed that people didn’t see you as anything less than and men didn’t view you as anything important. They merely chatted amongst themselves and went about their day as though you were just another face in the crowd. It was…oddly welcoming.  “Nobody notices me.” 

“Well, correction,” Arno began with a chortle, “ ** _I_** notice you.” He brought your attention back to him as he smiled crookedly yet again. “I do hope that is enough?”

A smile—something that felt so rare even as of late—came upon your lips and you expelled a breathless laugh in return. “It is more than enough, Arno,” you whispered to him as though the thought was precious, and you dared not share it with anybody. Hand moving to his cheek, it was your turn to bring calm to his anxious heart. 

He welcomed the gesture, and he was quick to move his hand to yours to embrace the thought and valued moment; his eyes closing as if to emotionally captivate it all the more. 

You had been awful at admitting your love and admiration for him lately. Arno had done everything he could to try and have you feel like yourself again in the past few months, and it seemed the damage in you was so great that it made you returning his love difficult. “I am sorry, Arno. You have been so wonderful and kind, and I have been horrible at returning the affection…” 

Arno shushed you once more, removing his hand from yours to quiet your confession. “The time at the brothel really had you scared to even be in the same area as men. You were forced to pleasure them, and they took advantage of your kindness.” His voice hardened at the thought, brow furrowing in anger. “But,” Arno’s face relaxed once more, “know this: I plan on doing the best I can to make sure you are comfortable around me before I express my love to its fullest.” 

You knew what he meant—sex. He had tried to initiate the thought weeks ago, but it had you so suffocated and scared you pushed him off of you and broke down in misery. You felt so damaged…like a broken toy that could no longer work properly no matter the time and attention put into it, and even now you were frightened. “The act is supposed to be so loving and genuine,” you spoke softly once more between you both. “Why is it I cannot even offer my body to the man I love the most?” 

“(Y/N), you know such a thought won’t drive my relationship with you. I have your heart, and that’s the main thing that matters to me,” Arno reminded you quickly, his fingertips brushing against your cheek in the process before toying a bit with your hair. “I just hate that such an act has been soiled by your time at the brothel. It shouldn’t cause one pain and suffering, but it should be enjoyable and beautiful in experience.” 

You blushed to his words, but grief of the matter still crippled you. “Perhaps…we could try again tonight?” 

Arno shook his head at the thought. “You are nervous, (Y/N). I would rather the time feel right then—.” 

“—Arno, please!” you interrupted pleadingly, grabbing onto his hands for support in the matter. “It’s not fair…!” Your voice quivered as you moved your hands to his chest to grope upon his attire urgently. “…It’s not fair that I find a man I truly love only to be crippled in the thought of doing more with him than I desire!” Tears startled to roll from your eyes at the thought something so precious was taken from you. “Please…don’t let Madam Leonda take this from me too…!” 

The Assassin tried to stand his ground on the matter throughout your plea. He was doing his best to act standoffish on the thought, but it proved a challenge when you showed your sadness. Once again, his face cracked under the pressures of sorrow and his body faltered with a heavy sigh. “Shhh,” he spoke softly, moving his thumbs just under your eyes to catch your tears. “What did I say before about showing this cruel world your sadness?” 

All the same, you couldn’t help but look upon him like a child who had done wrong and was looking for some sort of ‘it’ll be alright’ from her father. “Will you help me? I want to be able to love you…” Your voice was weak and nearly lost upon the pressure of your sobs, but the Assassin heard you. 

“We take it slow,” Arno stressed, his hands upon your cheeks tightening their grip to give further meaning to his words. “And please,” he added, removing his palms from you, “if you start to feel uncomfortable, tell me before it gets too bad. I don’t want to be responsible for causing you harm again unknowingly, (Y/N).” 

You nodded feverishly at the idea. “I promise…! I’ll do whatever takes…!” 

Arno didn’t want to end the evening on that note—instead, he ended up taking you to enjoy in something to eat and drink before considering the thought. While you still had a tendency to pick at your food (as though you’d get in trouble and had to savor every bite), it didn’t seem to bother Arno much. The Assassin merely spent his time enjoying his beer while checking a few papers he kept on him from time to time—possibly dealing with work. 

When you finished what you could, Arno escorted you back to the underground, which had become your new ‘home’ so to say. It was a lot homier than you assumed it would be when Arno explained who he was truly. You still couldn’t quite forget recoiling at the mention of the title ‘Assassin’, but you could tell he only killed those that needed to be brought down in order for peace to be maintained. 

With the bedroom back upon you, you felt your knees nearly buckle for some reason…perhaps because you knew what was to come. Could you really do it? Could you wash the past evils from your mind and accept Arno as your intimate lover? In the end, you found you were embracing yourself. 

Arno placed his hands reassuringly upon your shoulders to try and ease the tension from you. “(Y/N), just relax, and it will become easy in time.” His lips touched your head while his palms began to gently work upon erasing your tension. 

“Wh-What did you want me to do?” you asked, heart in your throat at the thought. 

“The question is what do **_you_** want me to do?” Arno probed, trying to find your sight so that he could make sure you were serious in what you desired to happen. 

Turning to him finally, you searched his face as if expecting an answer to be there, but none really came. “Just kiss me…hold me…do anything you want with me.” 

Arno laughed dryly at the last words you spared him, showing his uneasiness in that thought. “I will kiss you, (Y/N), and we will work from that.” 

Lips pressing against yours, you responded with your heart tightening in your chest. You gripped upon Arno’s upper arms to try and find the support you required to continue with doing much more than just kissing. It was then the kiss deepened as his tongue pressed tenderly against your lips to beg for entrance, and you complied. Moving your hands slowly to the nook of his neck, you felt his own embrace your lower back. Intoxicated by the taste of his breath, you thought for sure you’d have this as you slowly pulled back to gaze into his eyes—searching to make sure you still had your resolve. 

You were the one to slowly pull back, making Arno’s brow raise inquisitively. “Are you alright?” 

Slowly, you nodded as if to show a moment of hesitation at the thought. Fingertips to Arno’s cheek, you kept his look upon you with a harsh swallow, which rubbed your dry throat nearly raw in fretfulness. “I feel like some virgin about to be taken for the first time,” you admitted, sighing at your incompetence in something that should be easy. 

Arno chuckled, showing a bit of a relieved smile all the same. “I am glad that you are. It means that I mean something to you, and you are not just doing it because that was what you were trained to do all those times at the brothel, (Y/N).” 

You supposed that was right, but you admittedly never thought of it that way before. When you looked to Arno for guidance in what to do next, he motioned to the bed. 

“I am not going to do anything but undress you, and we’ll see how you feel afterward, oui (yes)?” Arno suggested, waiting for you to comply to the idea before guiding you to sit on the bed. 

Sitting and watching him closely, his lips met with yours again to distract and rouse your senses to something a bit more tantalizing. You thought for sure he’d go right for your dress first, but he did not. Instead, he had moved the dress from his way and knelt before you and started to remove your shoes. With one of them removed, you felt his lips caress the top part of your foot while his hands massaged and tended to the under part of your calf. 

A hot blush painting your cheeks, you felt your fingers coil about the bedcovers underneath you. Teeth to your lower lip, you flinched from the feel of joy enveloping your senses; especially, when Arno moved to the other foot to give it the same treatment. 

With your shoes removed, he planted a small butterfly kiss upon your knee before getting to his feet once more to make sure you were alright. “Did you want me to go further, (Y/N)?” 

Your mind was muddy. More than anything, you wanted to spend the evening just showing him how much he meant, but that ping of anxiousness was still very much there in your breast. “Is it alright if I ask for you to be undressed first?” 

Arno scrunched his face at the thought, as if to shrug and give a nonverbal ‘sure’ on the thought before answering. “I don’t mind.” His hands to his belt first, you watched him began to tamper with the decorative item, and, once again, your breath caught in your throat. Arno was quick to notice it halfway through the action and stopped—letting the belt hang loose for a second as he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright? Breathe, (Y/N)!” 

Finding your breath in a startled gasp at Arno gripping your shoulders, you shook yourself from your traumatized trance. “S-Sorry! I’m sorry! I don’t know what comes over me when that happens…!” 

“Men forced themselves on you before, (Y/N),” Arno said, eyes lidded in sorrow at the thought. “The sound of a man undressing scares you, it seems. I’ve noticed you panic every time I try to undo the very belt that holds my weapons in place.” 

“I-It’s fine now…it’s fine…” you insisted, wanting it to continue and try to ignore the trauma squeezing the breath from you. 

“I will wait a moment,” said Arno with a shake of his head. “You need to relax before I can go further.” 

He waited graciously, and you appreciated it. Seems this man knew you better than you did your own self, and that made you relieved. When the tension seemed to ease from your face, he continued onward (slowly) in removing his clothes. Apparently, the belt sound was the only thing that really struck a cord with you…. You guessed it always sort of signified a prelude of bad things to come, and it was hard to shake the connection. 

With him fully unclothed, you caught your breath at the sight. You had seen it before, but the entire evening was a nightmare to you as you could only remember crying from the thought of being taken by a man again. Your eyes remained upon his to keep from being impolite; you managed a smile (finally). “You look handsome, Arno.” 

He courteously took your compliment with a smile and a slight motion of his hands. “I thank you, my angel. Now, may I have the honor of seeing your beauty?” 

While the thought was still a bit unwelcomed, you knew it had to happen if you were to work on healing. “We’re just going to undress…right?” 

“Of course,” Arno was quick to answer, his hand to your cheek to try and sooth the worry from it. “I am not going to make you do something you don’t want to do.” 

And so you accepted and let the Assassin work away at your dress. He was gentle and slow—watching your face closely to assure himself that you weren’t anxious in any manner. It was steady in its process, but eventually, he had you undressed in return. His hands underneath your lower jaw, he moved to kiss you once more. 

The kiss was embraced and you nudged your nose gently against his skin as you welcomed the warmth of his breath and the sensation of his saliva upon your tongue. Even if your mind was foggy from the erotic kiss, you could still sense he was being courteous and keeping his hands from doing anything you may not desire, as they moved from your face to your shoulders to steady you so. 

Holding him in return, you let the feeling of his chest pressing upon yours settle shortly after the kiss ended and the two of you only stared into one another’s eyes. His fingers to your hair, he moved the stray strands that he could see from your sight and smiled. “Did you just want to rest together as this?” 

“I want nothing more,” you whispered quietly in return knowing you could trust him not to do anything you didn’t desire. 

And so he moved to the candle not far away to do away with the light after you found yourself comfortable in the bed. Shortly after, you felt the bed move as Arno joined you. The sound of him coming closer was causing nervousness to tickle your senses, but you did your best to ignore it as you found the Assassin embracing you once more. You felt him kiss the top of your head, but it was the sensation near your legs that made you tense. 

A bright blush at the thought, you moved your head against his chin for a moment. “A-Arno…? I can… ** _feel_** you.” Again, you were trying not to be impolite, but it was hard to ignore his erection when you moved against him accidentally. 

You felt him shrug and nasally sigh. “Do not worry about that. It happens from time to time. With pleasant thoughts of you, can you blame me, (Y/N)?” 

You felt cornered. Normally whenever men had an arousal you had to take care of it, or it forced the man to make you do so. “Did…did you want me to do something about it…?” 

“Do something, or don’t do something, my angel; that is up to you,” insisted Arno, who sounded unfazed by the idea of you doing either or. 

Admittedly, you wanted to, but you stilled your hand all the same. “Are you not in pain? I have heard from most men it can be painful to just let that be.” 

You heard and felt Arno sigh. “No,” he answered simply, but you could tell it was some form of a lie. “Whatever men have told you is merely for you to feel guilt in not pleasuring them.” 

“But if you’re in pain, then I should do something about it, as I care about you, Arno,” you reminded him, drifting your hand to his erection. Only your fingertips touched the sensitive skin, and it was there the Assassin quickly reacted. He grabbed your wrist—so firmly at first, you thought you did something wrong—until you felt it loosen and his thumb gently rubbed over your knuckles. 

“No (Y/N),” began Arno eagerly, as he moved your hand away. “Do not pleasure me because pity drives you—pleasure me because you love me.” 

Oddly enough, a smile crept upon your lips and you released the thought. He was the first man to ever stop you from making love to him, and it was something that nearly brought tears to your eyes. “Thank you, Arno Dorian,” you whispered against his chest before planting a kiss there as a form of gratitude. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me…” 

You felt his chest move from the small laughter that came from his lips. “You do not need to thank me for things any man should do willingly for you, (Y/N).” With that said, he kissed your head once more and embraced you in a way that wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. “Sleep well, my love, and I will see you in the morning.”

 

\--

 

The coming days were filled with you trying to adjust to being another face in the crowd and not some ‘toy’ to men and whore to women. Nobody seemed to notice or care for you as they once did when you wore the clothes of the brothel, and you felt relief in the notion. All you needed was one man’s affection, and that was Arno’s. 

While adjusting to the thought of making love to him was coming along, it still felt like a slow climb. You wanted to do it more than anything in the world, but the mental and physical damage really had hurt you. _I won’t let Madam Leonda win…_ you remembered telling yourself one evening out with Arno about Paris. 

The evening was full of dancing and merely taking in the sights of Paris beyond the guise of a prisoner. The city was much more beautiful than you took it credit for, but that was because you saw her as your prison and nothing more beforehand. Arno was intent to show you the world beyond your narrow perspective, and it made the city feel more like home. 

“So, what do you think of Paris so far?” Arno asked, his arm taking to yours as he strolled with you down the streets bathed in the light of the lamps. 

“It is beautiful,” you admitted, hand caressing a passing lamppost with a sigh of content. “I just hated I got on bad terms with her in the beginning.” 

Arno stifled a small laugh. “Mm, she is forgiving, as are her people.” His fingertips to your cheek, he let them slip from you as you ventured coyly away from him to the other side of the lamppost you were caressing. “Ah, don’t shy from me, my dear. The chase only makes me excited,” he teased, staying on the opposite side of the light all the same just in case you needed space for a reason. 

“You would catch me easily, Arno,” you laughed softly in return. “In this dress, it is difficult to run.” 

“I would give you a head start, princesse,” he mused before looking as though he just remembered something and began to fondle his pockets for an answer. “Ah, I forgot something…can you wait right here, (Y/N)? I promise that I will be right back!” 

While you hardly welcomed the idea, you took Arno’s promise that he wouldn’t be long and nodded without thinking. “I can wait.” 

“I promise I will be right back!” he insisted, causing the Assassin to hurry as quickly as possible out of sight and to retrieve whatever it was he had apparently forgotten. 

Embracing yourself, you looked up at the lamppost once more to watch as moths took interest in fluttering about the brightness so. Leaning against the only light you had aside from the moon and stars, you nasally sighed in disinterest at being alone, but that hardly lasted as long as you expected, as a chilling voice beckoned to you. 

“And so I find you…you worthless whore!” 

Your blood ran cold and you hesitated at the thought of turning around to greet the familiar tone. All the same, you steadily turned your head with panic rising in your chest and it was there you saw her…Madam Leonda. 

She was furious—her hair a mess and her sight as venomous and condescending as ever. “I was told you might be here in Paris still, with that man, Arno Dorian….who **_STOLE_** you from me!” 

She was inching closer at that moment, and for some reason, you felt too paralyzed to run. “M-Madam Leonda…! P-Please…d-don’t—!” 

Her nails were quickly back upon your face, and she halted your words by squeezing your cheeks uncomfortably yet again. Tears steaming from your eyes, you whined in dismay. “Don’t you understand, you worthless girl…you are property— ** _MY PROPERTY!_** I bought you like a prized bitch, and so, you are mine to do as I please!” 

Before you could respond, you heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed. “Get away from her!” Arno demanded, not hiding his ability to speak English, as he figured it was pointless at this moment. 

“Arno!” you screamed in desperation, finding Madam Leonda grabbing your wrists and pulling you away and to her possession before removing a small knife she had herself—raising it to your neck. It stilled your desire to breathe let alone speak. 

“So that explains a lot, Monsieur Dorian,” Leonda scoffed, keeping you pinned still. “No wonder she was starting to not act so stupid whenever I spoke in French!” 

Arno kept his sword at the ready and his stance showed he wouldn’t hesitate if Leonda made one wrong move. “You treated her as though she was **_nothing_** , and she was the most prized woman at your brothel, Mademoiselle Leonda! (Y/N) didn’t deserve that fate! You were cruel to her!” 

“She is property that you stole from me!” Madam Leonda hissed back, the dagger nearly cutting your throat in the process of her aggressive movements to stress her anger. 

Arno’s voice was hard and the words shot from his mouth without restraint. “ ** _She is a human being!_** ” 

“And what will you do, Monsieur Dorian?” Madam Leonda asked, pressing the flat of the blade against your throat at that moment. “We can’t go on like this forever, and one way or another, I will have her back—alive or dead!” 

Arno didn’t respond. His stance remained unflinching as he looked about for an answer. In the end, he didn’t respond. In a split second, you saw him hurry towards you and dropping to his side, he slipped beside you and the brothel mistress to use his hand to trip up the witch of a woman; causing her to lose her balance and release you as she fell face first upon the cold, wet stones of the road. 

You wasted no time in getting away, watching in horror as Arno drew his sword back then and intended on ending her life. Even if that woman caused you pain and suffering, you couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her die and you screamed. “ ** _NO!_** ” 

The sword struck…but not its target—it was embedded in the ground inches from Madam Leonda’s face. The sound of leather tightening filled the air soon after as Arno gripped the hilt of the blade, and you saw him move forward then. “You are lucky,” he hissed in a tone so cold it almost felt unlike him. “I would have ended your life had (Y/N) not been here to stop me.” 

You flinched at the sound of the blade being removed from the ground and watched as Madam Leonda showed a bit of surprise in your desire to have her be spared. All the same, it didn’t change that cold woman, and her face contorted back to the same, noxious glare. “Nothing will stop me, Monsieur… ** _NOTHING!_** ” she yelled almost hysterically as Arno sheathed his sword and came back to you. 

“Let’s go,” he whispered to you, urging you away from the woman and not desiring for you to see more. 

“I will get her back and have you behind bars for your thieving ways! **_YOU HEAR ME!_** ” 

You did, and you knew Arno did too, but the French Assassin ignored her and continued onward. The threat was chilling, but once again, the Assassin came to your rescue, and it made you realize it would be impossible for that woman to actually make truth to her word. 

 

 

Back in the safety of the underground, you found relaxation and peace envelop you to where you nearly hunched over upon the bedside had it not been for the corset you were wearing. Looking to Arno, who was apparently unsure of how to respond to the situation that happened earlier, you managed a weak smile. “Would you have done it, Arno…?” 

Arno turned to you then with a confused look upon his face—making him feel less like the killer you saw moments ago and more like the tender man you had come to love. “Mm?” 

“Would you have killed Madam Leonda…?” you asked again, watching as he ventured close to the bedside to sit beside you with his hands upon yours. 

“I would have, as fear guides my hand so,” Arno admitted, sounding a bit shameful to the thought. “I pray you do not think ill of me.” 

You wanted to say something, but you weren’t sure what. Madam Leonda terrified you, and even if Arno was willing to kill her, he was equally willing to spare her too under your demand. 

“Oh!” Arno exclaimed randomly, breaking the tension as he dug into his pocket. “I was meaning to give this to you, but it fell from my hand earlier, it seemed, so I had to search for it.” 

Tilting your head curiously, you saw as (whatever it was) could easily fit in his palm and hide behind his fingers. “Such a tiny trinket, whatever it is. Must have been hard to find it,” you teased with a lopsided smile. 

Arno chuckled at the comment, stroking your cheek with his finger. “It is, and when you see it, know that you are welcome to accept it at any time you desire, (Y/N).” 

Confusion washed over you until you witnessed him unfold his fingers to show a ring—simple in design but gold in coloration. Eyes widened and heart beating in your chest, you looked from the ring to Arno with your mouth agape in awe and wonder. “A-Arno..?” 

He kissed between your eyes before taking your hands to hold them securely to his chest. “(Y/N), I know you are still scared of some things in regards to my love and feelings for you, but I do hope that I make you happy all the same. **_When_** you feel ready,” he stressed, holding one of your hands tightly at the thought, “you are welcomed to accept this, if you feel I am the right one for you. If you find I am not, think nothing of it.” 

Tears clouding your view, you looked to Arno with a small shake of your head. “You would do so much for me?” you asked, lower lip trembling at the last word. 

“If I could, I would bring heaven to earth, my fallen angel, so you’d feel safe again, but since I am a simple man, I can only offer you my love and hope that is enough?” 

“Of course it is,” you answered, words almost hard to decipher as your sobs of happiness were getting in the way. 

Arno showed you the ring once more before putting it off to the side for you to look upon. “When you are ready, (Y/N), let me know, and I will put this upon you without question. Until then, shall we continue onward as though part of this evening never happened?” 

Only able to find the ability to show your appreciation in the thought, you went right for a kiss without even thinking. Hands to his cheeks, you brought him in close to your lips to kiss the Assassin eagerly, and Arno complied without question. Embracing you tightly, he lowered you down to the bed below while enjoying in the erotic taste of you. His lips trailing from your own to the slope of your nose and then to your forehead, he looked you eagerly in the eyes. 

“Did you want me to do more?” he asked, his finger trailing from your cheek to your jaw line with a gentle look in his eyes that showed he’d be understanding if you said ‘no’. 

“I want to try,” you answered softly upon his lips, tilting your head to kiss him once more. 

“I will go slow,” Arno reminded you, his fingertip caressing the corner of your mouth. “Just let me know when to stop.” 

You allowed it, and before long, you and Arno were (yet again) without your clothing to cover you both. Knowing you weren’t comfortable with him on top of you as so, he moved beside you and let you take in the thought as he drew upon your skin with his index and middle finger. You shivered as you felt them casually stroll across your side and to your stomach and then back again. Honestly, you knew the only way you’d feel comfortable was if you had a chance to touch him in return. 

When Arno felt your hand drift in that direction, he raised his brow to your movements. “Are you sure?” 

You nodded, and it was there he allowed you to do as you pleased. Fingers caressing the head of his erection, you slowly took it into your grip and began to tease the sensitive skin with your palm. You heard his breathing get heavier as Arno’s palm began to move to your outer thigh and then teased the thought of going between your legs. He probably felt you tease, and it was there he paused just near the entrance to your womanhood. 

He shushed you gently, stroking your inner thigh to calm you. “Did you want me to continue?” 

The words were hard to speak, but the euphoria that had you in its warm embrace urged you to nod. 

It was a sort of gentleness that remained foreign to you. His index finger gently rubbed against your clit to try and excite you further, you hissed in excitement—your grip upon the base of his erection tightening at the sensation. A man rarely took the moment to give you any sort of pleasure in return, and to actually be the one receiving it made your mind foggy. Moving his finger once more, you felt it rub the expecting lips to your entrance as if to coax and prepare you for the thought before slowly inserting a finger inside of you. 

A gasp escaped your lips as your toes curled and you removed your hand from his erection to focus on the sensation sparking through you. “Aah…! A-Arno…!” you stuttered, arching your back into the pleasurable feeling. 

You felt his finger move upward in the tight warmth of your body as if searching for something while his thumb pressed to your clit then to add more to the feeling rupturing through you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his breathing still a bit heavy through his nostrils as he was focusing on pleasing you. 

“I-I’m fine,” you answered, grip upon his shoulders to anchor yourself better. 

Pulling his hand from your entrance, he moved his soiled palm to your stomach and then to your side and up to your back with a smile. “Did you feel comfortable with me doing more?” 

It was a decision clouded by the erotic feeling mudding your mind, but you nodded at the thought. “I trust you…” you whispered, breathing heavy as well from the love that had warmed you so. 

Arno searched your face as if to make sure you weren’t lying to him, and it was there he moved and positioned himself over you. “Just give me a moment to get situated, and I will go back to my side,” he said to you softly, kissing your warm cheek. 

Seems anxiety would not find you as easily as the times before. Feeling Arno’s arms moving under your thighs to get you better situated upon the covers, he pushed only the head of his arousal within you to see how you’d take to it before feeling encouragement to continue. 

You had taken countless men before, but this one single time felt different. Perhaps because the act was driven by love and not lust that made it more memorable to you? All the same, you reacted with a heavy breath at the feel of his entire length sheathed within you. Arno was about to keep to his word and move you to the side, but you had caught him off guard by straddling him. Heels digging into his lower back, you tried to push him as far in as possible. 

“(Y/N)…!” he gasped, not expecting that reaction and flexing his muscles to try and remain control. His cheek soon to yours, you felt his arms move underneath you to bring you close to him in a hug while his rhythm started off slowly to let you adjust to the thought of accepting him 

It was a leisurely pace you welcomed, and the sound of him whispering tender words in French in your ear before gently nibbling upon your earlobe made you respond to his movements by arching into his actions and heeling him all the more to try and urge him onward. Before too long, Arno gained speed and the sound of how wet you were becoming reached your ears the longer he continued. 

Your nails curled upon his upper back, pricking his skin as you bit at your lower lip. Your orgasm was building and building and you felt yourself unable to hold back much longer. “A-Arno…! I am going to cum…!” you warned as your whole body tensed and your tight warmth squeezed the intruding erection harshly to try and coax the warm seed from the slit. 

The Frenchmen tensed at the response of your orgasm, and you felt him go taut before he complied. A loud gasp to accompany his release could be heard near your ear as he held onto you tightly in return—the rush of his cum so great and unexpected that it even pooled from the lips of your entrance and stained the covers below. “(Y/N)…! (Y/N), my (Y/N)…!” he panted, moving a hand to the back of your head to caress you there as his heavy breath teased your cheek before he planted a butterfly kiss there. “How I love you…” 

You didn’t move him off of you; the thought never crossed your mind. If anything, you welcomed the warm dampness of his body upon yours as you began to kiss his lips sloppily given how drunk you were under the effects of his love. “And you…I love you, Arno Dorian…” you whispered, tears spilling from your eyes as you were able to finally love the man that had shown you so much in return.


End file.
